In His Smile (Sequel to In Her Eyes)
by WhouffleGirl96
Summary: The TARDIS is missing. Fenric is winning. The Endgame is now.
1. Chapter 1- The Morning After

The planet was small, smaller than an asteroid, barely worthy of the title. It could only be seen up close by passing travellers, and even then the average alien would need a telescope to pick it out from the masses of debris that flew perilously close to the planet, some partially entering the atmosphere whenever the planet's gravity fluctuated. That, too, was dangerous- the surges of the force were often unpredictable by any kind of advanced technology and all efforts to understand it had failed. It made the planet unique, and a top spot for tourists (if they could find it, of course) but as a result taking off and landing on the planet was akin to suicide. It was a common occurrence for spaceships to take off then crash back down abruptly when gravity decided that it wasn't going to let it make it off the planet. Thousands had died from this very reason. However, for some reason, the planet was home to one of the largest single spaceports of all time, boasting two hundred separate terminals and top class passenger service. Millions of life forms used the spaceport every day, whether it was just to stop off for fuel or to risk the planet's deadly reputation in the name of sport. It was a place for daredevils; for the naive, lazy holidaymaker that had bought their family holiday cheap from an advert on their holovid and hadn't bothered to search it up on their PDA. The seasoned traveller knew exactly what to expect from the place, and, like all sensible people, steered well clear of it.

The Doctor hated himself for having to bring Clara here. Hated hated_ hated_ it. They had been in such a rush to get off Taxhyon Spaceport that the Doctor had had to beg them a lift with a sleazy merchant to smuggle them in his hold, and even then he suspected that the only reason that said merchant had let them on was Clara, who had impeccably read the ten-tentacled aliens intentions and had been making eyes at him for the duration of their negotiations. She had never strayed from the Doctor's side once during the flight, though, almost glued to his side when their host came to check on them when they were halfway there, and when the merchant had realised that Clara wasn't game he had forcefully ejected them in the escape pod onto the nearest unsavoury planet.

Which just had to be this one.

He paid close attention to the soles of his feet and the turning of the planet beneath him on it's axis. His hands were shaking like leaves and he kept a tight hold on Clara's waist, as if that would keep them both from being smashed into humanoid pulps if the gravity decided to bend.

"So this is what it's like," said Clara, lips quirking up into a hint of a smile, "travelling like normal people. Long queues and bad hygiene."

"Airports on Earth are worse," the Doctor pointed out, "and most of the long queues are formed by joyriders clogging up space lanes without asking permission from the nearest planet's space control."

"Joyriders like us, you mean?" She quipped, letting out a small laugh as he grumbled.

"I don't see you complaining most days," He answered back, smiling in spite of himself when Clara wound her arms around his waist and leant her chin on his chest. He pressed a hand to the small of her back, splaying his fingers and committing to memory the faint tinge of red in her cheeks and the soft twinkle in her eyes. He was still afraid that every morning when they woke up, bodies and bed sheets tangled together so much that they didn't know where Time Lord ended and Human began, that Clara would be gone, taken by Fenric in the dead of night, or a still ice-cold corpse with electric blue lips poised at the sensitive spot on his neck that she loved to tease. Every morning he was proved wrong, however, and was beginning to relax whenever Clara had a gap between breaths or a sudden lapse of memory. She was recovering, if slower than the Doctor had hoped.

And the psychological effects would take much, much longer to heal.

"Relax, Doctor," Clara said, calling him back to the real world, "you're all tense."

"Yeah, well," he shifted uncomfortably when the planet's gravity hiccuped, causing luggage trolleys and several holidaymakers to stagger. The staff didn't miss a beat, well used to the subtle gravity changes. "I've got a lot to be tense about."

She rubbed her hands up and down his back and kissed his cheek, standing on tip toe to reach.

"We'll be out of here soon," she assured him, grinning adorably up at him as he blushed, still flailing like he always did when Clara initiated romantic contact with him.

"I hope so."

The queue started moving again, and the Doctor hurried Clara towards their flight hand resting in the small of her back. He could sense the planet coming to life beneath him, and it made him edgier and edgier as time went on.

_Five more minutes, _he kept on telling himself, _just five more minutes and we'll be on that shuttle. Be patient. Be patient._

They sped through customs, the Doctor waving the psychic paper at anybody persistent enough to ask for ID. He practically bundled Clara onto the shuttle, locking her securely in her seat and making sure all her safety equipment was working, continuing to fuss over her even after he had checked and double checked every single item of equipment in their compartment. Clara initially protested but eventually relented and let him do it, falling silent when she saw just how frantic he was. She only knew the watered down version of the history of the planet- that it had gravity fluctuations and was a dangerous spot to be. He hadn't told her, however, about the regularity in which space travellers died while blasting off, nor about how unpredictable the gravity surges were. She was under the impression that they were perfectly safe, which was exactly how he wanted her to feel.

"Doctor..." She said softly as he checked her belt for the fourth time. He ignored her, securing the safety catch on her luggage, and started when she wrapped her hand around his wrist, tugging him into the seat next to her. She leaned over to buckle him in herself but he had strapped her in too tight for her to comfortably move more than two inches in a direction. She undid her belt and flung her arm across his chest when he tried to stand up and redo it.

"Clara-" He protested, squirming. She shushed him and pulled his belt out of the slit of fabric in his seat, sliding it down his chest and over his hips until it met the buckle and snapped into place. The hull groaned and creaked around them.

"There," she said, plopping back into her own seat and tightening her belt around her. She settled in, laying her head on it's side and looking up at him. He cupped her face automatically with one hand, and winced when a rumble that wasn't the engines jerked the plane. The other passengers grumbled and gripped the arms of their seats tightly. Clara's eyes were round O's of surprise.

"What was that?" She whispered to him. The Doctor swallowed.

"What kind of answer would you like?" He answered.

"Oh, I dunno. Reassuring?"

"It was the engines," he told her, flashing her his best confident grin that he could manage at that moment.

"Right, yes; the engines," said Clara. "You really are a terrible liar, Doctor."

The shuttle jerked. Clara instinctively grabbed the Doctor's hand, threading their fingers together.

"Okay," she breathed, "about now would be a good time to explain what's going on."

The Doctor squeezed her hand. "I told you. Engines."

"Ah, the engines that _are currently not even on._"

Their fellow passengers settled back into their seats. Clara shot a sideways look at the Doctor who was sat rigid in his seat, knuckles a pasty white where his fingers clasped hers.

"Don't make me tell you, Clara," he warned, trying to keep a casual air about him for her sake. It was failing. Both his attempts at reassurance and the gravity.

The shuttle's engines fired up and it disconnected from the terminal, the cheap dirty green paint flaking off in clumps as the vessel shook. The Doctor felt the gravity warp beneath his feet just seconds before it blipped out, shuttle shunting upwards jerkily as gravity was lost then reasserted itself simultaneously. The hull bent inwards. Clara uttered a quick prayer. The Doctor reached over and cupped her neck with his other hand, feeling the fast beats of her pulse thudding against his skin and the muscles in her neck moving as she swallowed.

"Doctor-" Clara started, but was interrupted by the beep of the intercom as the pilot lifted the receiver and held it in front of his mouth.

_"This is your pilot speaking. We are currently experiencing level nine gravity fluctuations in this terminal. We have been told by control that they're working to stabilize it, but the artificial gravity is too weak to help shuttles take off. We're going solo." _- a pause- _"Good luck everyone._"

The comm line went dead. The Doctor unbuckled himself from his seat.

"Where're you going?" Clara cried as he struggled to stand upright. The gravity was now swinging the other way; it was a dead weight, pressing relentlessly on their shoulders like it was trying to pummel them into the ground. The Doctor shrugged with some effort and waved the sonic at her.

"To fly a shuttle," he answered clicking a finger and pointing it at her, "stay there, don't move."

"But, Doctor-" she began to protest. He kissed her to shut her up then swung himself down the aisle, grabbing onto the backs of chairs to push himself further and help him move faster to the cockpit. Clara waited until he had made it to the door then retracted the belt around her waist, propelling herself down the shuttle after him. He must've been truly stupid to believe that she wouldn't follow him. She slipped into the cockpit after him and stood behind him, laying a hand on his shoulder as he argued heatedly with the two pilots. He jumped, twirling around and growling frustratedly when he saw her standing there, running an agitated hand through his quiff.

"I thought I told you to stay seated!" He said crossly.

"Yeah, well, I didn't listen. You can't fly a shuttle by yourself anyway," she said back. "You can't even fly a plane."

"And you can?" he asked pointedly, already knowing what the answer was.

"No," she conceded, "but we managed it together last time."

In front of them, the pilots carried on flicking switches and turning dials, relaying information through to control as if the couple weren't squabbling behind them. The shuttle jerked again and the Doctor and Clara were thrown together, falling into a jumble on the floor as the gravity began to fail and decrease again. The Doctor rolled on top of her, shielding her body with his as the shuttle shook around them and the pilots struggled for control. Adrenaline pumped through him. He gave Clara a hand to help her up and they leant heavily on each other as gravity refused to stabilize.

"Fair point," he said, letting her win. Ordering her back into her seat would be pointless- she'd come running after him again the moment he turned his back. "But do exactly as I tell you."

Clara nodded. "Gotcha."

One of the pilots had been knocked out during the turbulence. The Doctor lay him on the ground and pulled himself into his seat, overriding the control dashboard in front of him so he had full control. Clara squeezed into the seat next to him, her legs draped diagonally across his so she fitted. The Doctor looked up at her then whipped the unconscious pilot's hat off his head and tugged the cap onto her's instead, saluting her jokingly as she grinned. Next to them, the co-pilot ripped off his headphones and stared at them.

"What the hell are you doing in my cockpit?" He demanded them.

"Saving your life and the lives of everybody on this ship. Now listen." The Doctor slid an arm around and past Clara's waist to reach a set of dials, twisting them uselessly. "We have approximately three minutes fifteen seconds until this shuttle blows."

The co-pilot reached for the microphone in his headset to contact shuttle control. The Doctor tapped his hand away while fiddling with some toggles, eyes flicking from control to control desperately.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. They don't care- they've locked us out. No turning back. Tell me"-he read the co-pilot's name tag-"James, how well can you fly this thing? Because, frankly, neither me nor Clara have a clue."

James threw his hands in the air. "I dunno! I'm a trainee! I can't fly this thing. First time out, didn't expect to get caught out like this."

"Oh, _great_. Well, what can you do?" The Doctor ripped some wires out of the dashboard and fused them together with his sonic. James looked at him like he was mad.

"You can't do that!" He cried, "that's...that's..._intergalactic government property!_"

"Tough. Now, _what can you do?_"

James considered, then said reluctantly, "I can keep it airborne. Like, change speed and keep the engines going and stuff."

"That'll have to do," said the Doctor, tapping in a command above Clara's head. He took her hand and guided it up to a lever up and to the right of her shoulder. "Keep hold of that and don't let go," he told her, fingers stroking hers briefly before returning to the crude steering wheel he had built out of the wires. James muttered something to himself bitterly, then began switching systems online. A loud humming started up around them, vibrating through the ancient padding in their seats. The Doctor turned on the comm system and spoke into the microphone just below his chin, voice booming throughout the ship.

"_Hello, this is your new captain speaking. Sorry about the delay- the problem has been fixed and we should be leaving in about thirty seconds, give or take. What do you think, air hostess?"_

There was a pause as the Doctor bent the microphone in Clara's direction. She grinned at him, blowing some hair that had fallen out of her face.

_"Spot on, Captain. May I remind you that the fire exits are here, here and here-" _She leaned out of the chair and mimed the actions through the open door and into the passenger compartment. A row of shocked faces stared back at her. "_Our estimated arrival time depends on how fast this thing goes and if we make it off the planet alive, which, at this time, is uncertain. Our apologies. Please make sure that all tray tables are collapsed and that your seatbacks are in the full upright position for take off, thank you. Have a nice flight!_"

Clara collapsed back onto the Doctor's lap, laughing. He straightened the cap on her head, then tilted it at a more jaunty angle. James stared at them.

"You're mad, the pair of you. Properly, raving, mad." He said weakly.

They both laughed harder. James's eyes went wide.

"I'm going to report you two to the Shadow Proclamation!" He said threateningly.

"Oh, I do hope so," the Doctor answered, "I need to have a chat with them."

"Is that where we're going?" Clara asked, curious. The Doctor had been unusually quiet with her recently, and reluctant to share his thoughts. But now he just grinned, flexing his fingers over the makeshift steering wheel.

"Yes and no. You'll see." He turned to James. "You ready?"

The trainee pilot let out a long breath. "As I'll ever be."

Clara renewed her grip on the lever- it really was hard to keep it upright. James held two dials in place and nodded to the Doctor, who pulled the wheel slowly into his chest. A spark lit up his eyes.

_"Geronimo._"

The shuttle hovered uncertainly, veering to the left then the right as the Doctor struggled to keep control. Clara shifted both hands up onto the lever, pressing forward with all her strength. James fumbled over the dash, face a picture of panicked confusion as he struggled to remember what which control did quick enough.

They pushed.

Gravity pulled.

Then, with an almighty scream of metal and a terrible sucking sound, the shuttle's thrusters reached optimal speed and broke free of gravity's deadly pull, shooting forward like a bullet up into the planet's atmosphere and bursting through to the Doctor laughed manically and dropped his head back onto Clara's shoulder, feeling her body vibrate as she chuckled with him.

James sat back in his seat and stared, eyes wide, into nothingness.

"Mad," he uttered under his breath, "completely, utterly, mad."


	2. Chapter 2- The Shadow Proclamation

The small, battered shuttle's engines sputtered and struggled to keep the vessel airborne as it circled the spaceship. It was huge, futuristic, a stark contrast to the tiny ship hobbling next to it.

Inside, the Doctor watched Clara as she slept tiredly in his arms. The excitement of their near-death takeoff had taken it's toll- her already severely depleted reserves of energy drained once more- and once they had safely dropped off the passengers and the unconscious pilot she had fallen asleep where they were sat. James was currently piloting the ship (apparently docking was one of the things that he could do), and the Doctor had nothing to do but hold Clara close in his lap as she snoozed and fiddle idly with her hair. She was wearing it down, but slightly curled, the subtle kinks flicking out in tiny arches over her shoulders. Her face had filled out again, but he could still see the shape of some of her bones through her thin dark blue jumper. He knew that she had chosen that jumper from the shop because it was a bit too large, because it hid the obvious signs of undereating that could all too easily have been mistaken for anorexia by a passing stranger. Clara hated stares from strangers; hated unwanted, almost judging attention from people she barely knew. It reminded her of the attention she got when her mum had died, the whispers and the looks that had followed her wherever she went. The Doctor checked her pulse and her temperature, a habit he was finding it hard to break out of, before shifting out of their seat and making his way into the cockpit. Inside, James was having a hard time communicating with a Judoon over the comm system.

"Bo! Sco! No! Fo!" The Judoon commander shouted. James yelled something back hopelessly in English, waving at the Doctor frantically to sit down. He did, taking out the sonic and blasting the microphone on front of him with a short burst of energy. He listened to the transmission again, having to concentrate more than he usually would on the alien language due to the TARDIS's absence. She was obviously doing her best to maintain contact with him and Clara to help them find her, but it was only a matter of time before Fenric flew her to a place out of reach of even his mind. He dreaded the day that he wouldn't be able to speak English anymore, when he could no longer decipher what Clara was saying. It would drive him mad.

"Hello the Judoon!" He spoke into the receiver, hoping that the TARDIS would translate for him, "This is the Doctor. Permission to dock?"

There were several seconds of silence and annoyed grunts from the Judoon's end of the line as they debated between themselves. The Doctor twisted in his seat to check on Clara, yet another habit he was failing to break. The intercom let off a sharp burst of static, causing him to wince and Clara to stir in her chair, blinking confusedly at him. He gave her a thumbs up and waited for her to return it before snapping the microphone up to his lips once more, scolding the Judoon for waking up his companion. They didn't sound too cut up about it, the commander snorting impatiently at him down the line.

"The girl is irrelevant. You may land and present yourselves for inspection." The line went dead. The Doctor mouthed _sorry, love _to Clara, who was more than a bit disgruntled at the way the Judoon had spoken about her.

"They're Rhinos," he told her apologetically when she joined him in the cockpit, "they have trouble understanding relationships."

Clara's eyes went so wide they nearly bulged. "Rhinos? Actual Rhinos, in space?"

"Yep. They protect the universe and everyone in it. When it suits them, anyway." He patted her head fondly. "Where's the hat?" He asked, crestfallen.

"The captain took it back when we dropped him off, remember?" She tapped her fingers on the arm of his chair to a silent tune. "So they're, like, police? Space police? Scotland Yard in space."

He laughed. "Yes, if you like. Although with talking rhinos and spaceships. Never really understood why Scotland Yard's called Scotland Yard, though, when it's in London." He frowned, perplexed.

Clara shrugged. "They're Scottish; who knows."

The Doctor bobbed his head to one side in agreement. "Still should've kept the hat. Hats are cool." He muttered. Clara offered him a half-smile and leaned against his chair, folding her arms.

"You wish," she teased. The Doctor grumbled something under his breath, making a grab for her waist to pull her down with him. She dodged out of his way, laughing.

The comms fizzed with static again until the Judoon's gravelly voice rumbled through the cockpit once more, relaying docking instructions that the Doctor translated for James. He guided the shuttle under the belly of the ship and up into the yawning hole entrance to the docks, the darkness swallowing them up as they passed underneath. The dock door slid up with a clunk behind them.

James piloted blind until lights shunted on around them, illuminating the massive space they were in. Judoon spaceships were docked above and below them, the cylindrical black ships coating the walls and attached to terminals by short glass tubes. There were millions of them packed tightly together, two thirds of the Shadow Proclamation's total military strength contained under one roof. Their shuttle was pathetic in comparison, the small green ship as insignificant as an ant next to the monsters kept there.

A dock lit up and James flew the shuttle towards it, wincing when the docking tubes roughly collided with it's side. Green paint flaked off and floated into the middle of the bay, leaving a circle of naked metal and a small dent in the ship's side. The air pressure in the airlock and the tube stabilised with a loud hiss and the lights shut off, plunging them in darkness. The Doctor leaped up from his chair, the emerald glow of the sonic illuminating his face like a horror film. He fumbled for Clara's hand in the dark, barely able to see more than a few centremetres in any directions.

"What's going on?" Clara questioned. The Doctor waved the sonic at her, the disc of light shining in her eyes and throwing her sharp cheekbones into shadows. She pointedly moved his wrist so the sonic was jabbed in a different direction that wasn't her.

"They're scanning the ship for weapons. Shouldn't take long; standard procedure. They'll let us out soon."

They waited, silent, apart from the occasional shuffle as James felt his way to them careful not to trip on any wires. Clara shivered- the temperature had dropped significantly since the shuttle had shut down. Puffs of white appeared whenever they breathed.

"Any minute now..." The Doctor whispered, and let out a whoop when the lights turned back on and the general hum of the ship resumed. Clara let out a grateful sigh as the heating turned back on and hot air blew through the vents on the floor, little clouds of steam rising as hot air met cold.

The airlock depressurised and the round door swung upwards slowly, the locks releasing smoothly as it was manipulated from the other side. Turning off the sonic, the Doctor led Clara over to the door, keeping her marginally behind him not out of spite, but out of fear that the Judoon would realise that she was not of this time and lock him up for kidnapping defenseless humans.

Not that she was defenseless, but still. He didn't want to risk it.

A helmeted Judoon marched down the tube to them, stomping heavily and breathing loudly. Clara craned her head for a better look, wondering how the Judoon were rhinos when they appeared so human. The Judoon stomped to a stop in front of them, scanning them with a hand held device from it's belt before standing to attention and thumping it's fist on it's chest, saluting them. The Doctor returned the salute.

"The Doctor and the human female shall follow me," the Judoon grunted, banging his chest at Clara before turning around and starting the way he came. Clara was surprised that the glass could support all the Judoon's weight without cracking.

She and the Doctor began to walk after it. James stood on the threshold of the tube, confused.

"Hey, what about me?" He called after them, "what do I do?"

The Judoon stopped, turned around. It reached up and undid the clasps around the base of his helmet and pulled it off in one swift twist of his hands. Clara's eyes widened. Underneath the helmet was a rhino's head; rough, tough skin, small ears, two short fat horns and tiny eyes that squinted at them all above the long snout and slitted nostrils. Where the teeth of a herbivore should be instead was the teeth of an omnivore, distinctly human and out of place in the rhino's mouth.

James gasped in shock and stumbled backwards, tumbling back into the passenger quarter of the shuttle.

"The male is not needed," the Judoon rasped, "he is expendable. Eject him."

James turned to the Doctor, terrified. "What's he saying? Doctor, what does he mean?" The Time Lord didn't answer, feeling sick to his stomach. He wanted to help James, but if he did he would be interfering with galactic law, putting Clara at risk and sentencing himself to a long term in prison. He looked at James sadly.

"Doctor!" The co-pilot cried, throwing himself against the airlock door as it closed and locked him in, air compressing as he was sealed into the shuttle. He punched the thick glass porthole in the door wildly.

"James!" Shouted Clara, starting to run to the airlock door controls on their side, but the Doctor grabbed her arms and held her back.

"There's nothing we can do," he told her, the words tasting vile in his mouth.

"What are you talking about! Of _course _there's _something _we can do, there has to be something!" She struggled in his grasp. The Doctor wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her tightly to him. He hated to restrict her like that; to use his physical strength against her, but he really had no choice if they were both to survive.

A glass barrier slammed down between them and the shuttle, keeping the air in and evening out the pressure in both compartments. As the couple watched. the magnetic clamps holding the shuttle to the Shadow Proclamation's ship disengaged and the little ship was sent spinning into the night.


	3. Chapter 3- The Hunt Begins

The Judoon led the Doctor and Clara down the glass tube until they reached the corner, turning sharply into a crisp white passage lined with complex machinery and flat screens running code. He tugged Clara behind him until she ripped her arm from his, walking a measured distance away from him. She was furious with him for letting the Judoon eject James without a fight. It was understandable, but sometimes he wished that Clara wasn't so stubborn. His hands itched, so accustomed to the constant close proximity that they had maintained to one another over the past few months that it felt unnatural not to have her hand in his or his arm around her. He shot her a pained look, which she ignored, before stuffing his fingers in his trouser pockets and passing an expert eye over the lines of code on the screens, learning the symbols and equations as he went. Judoon tech was fascinating to him; he had once spent a whole week trying to decipher the various hints and messages hidden within their programs. The Shadow Proclamation had a far more intricate security system than any other organisation in the known universe, and cracking their codes was a familiar hobby of the Doctor's. They often invited him to test their security themselves to check just how fail safe it was, and the Shadow Proclamation had yet to invent a language that the Time Lord couldn't crack.

Pairs of Judoon guards were stationed at strategic intervals along the passageways that wove further and further into the mothership's mainframe the longer they travelled. Engineers from mixed alien races scurried past every once in a while, arms full with blueprints for new parts or odds and ends that needed repairing. Clara stared at them in confusion as they hurried along.

"I thought the Shadow...whatever were those Judoon things?" She asked, forgetting her unspoken vow of silence against him. The Doctor smiled over at her, relieved that she was talking to him, and her frown deepened, small wrinkles appearing in her forehead.

"The Judoon are only one small part of the Shadow Proclamation- they're the hired force, like hit men, that hunt criminals. There's more than one level in the chain of command of the Proclamation, a bit like in your Earth's parliaments. The people you see running around now are in the lowest chain of command. The deeper into the ship you go, the more prominent the personnel are. The _brains _behind the _brawn._" His fingers wiggled in his pockets in protest about their entrapment there when she began to walk closer to him again, more to keep out of the way of the increasing number of runners scurrying to and fro than anything else. Nevertheless his hands twitched, longing to close the gap between them and hold her just as close as he did on the night she nearly died. Did die. Would have died. He looked away from her before she noticed he was staring and shook his head clear of the confusing thoughts that persisted on clouding them. He hadn't had a chance to thoroughly think through his and Clara's options and work out a plan, too preoccupied with keeping her alive and getting them safe. Now that they were, to some degree, in a place of safety, the Doctor fully intended on finding a place to theorise, preferably with Clara's help. She always helped to focus his thoughts and keep him from going off topic, something that always seemed to affect him, as well as offering her own take on his ideas. One glance at the disquieted, troubled murk in her clear brown eyes, however, convinced him that she wouldn't be herself again for a long while.

The Doctor brooded the rest of the way to the control room. When they arrived he scanned the surrounding area for hostile alien tech before they went in, remembering the numerous times that the Shadow Proclamation had been influenced heavily, even employed, by exterior organisations. He didn't put it past Fenric to have bribed the Judoon or spread unlawful rumours about him in order to have them detained and hinder their progress. Once he was satisfied that there was no immediate threat inside the room he ushered Clara in, keeping a concerned eye on her as she crossed the walkways within the crowded room to one of the floor to ceiling view screens that opened up on the empty vacuum of space that was the quadrant they were flying through. Her head turned back and forth, searching for a tiny green speck admist the permanent inky black that stretched on and on. The Doctor left her to it, giving her shoulder a brief rub that she ignored when he walked past.

"Doctor," a disembodied female voice boomed through the control room, "why are you here?"

"To the point as ever, I see, " he replied, turning a small circle on the spot. "How are you, commander? Keeping fit, eating healthily? I gotta say you look amazing for someone your age."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Doctor." She answered.

"Worth a try." He hopped up onto one of the empty workstations, snagging a lukewarm coffee from the desk of a man sleeping on the job the next table over. He sipped it as he gathered his thoughts, pulling a disgusted face and wagging his tongue in distress when he tasted it properly. "Blurgh. Cold coffee." He tossed the cardboard cup into the nearest waste bin, grinning happily when it went in first time and looking excitedly for Clara to see if she had noticed. She hadn't, and he sighed dejectedly to himself and swung his legs a bit. "So, Shadow Architect," he began, rolling the title experimentally around his tongue, "I need to talk to you."

"I am talking to you," she said sassily back. He mouthed the words back at her childishly, doing a passable imitation of the pale, red-eyed leader. One of the workers at another station, a young man, snorted with laughter and hurriedly covered it up with an unconvincing sneeze. The Doctor shot him an appreciative look.

"I can see you as well. Both of you." she added, a little crossly.

"Yes, of course. Sorry," The Doctor replied sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thing is, I need your help. Not too much, don't worry. Just a...small favour," he said brightly, hands flourishing to emphasise how small a favour it actually would be.

"Explain."

Out of the corner of his eye, the Doctor saw Clara bending over one of the workstations, pointing at a monitor and asking questions while an attendant brought her some tea. He smiled- it was good to see her getting back into their usual routine, or what passed as a routine for them now. So much between them had changed. He tore his gaze from Clara and focused back on the Shadow Architect, wondering how on Earth he was going to explain their situation to her.

"An old enemy of mine, Fenric-remember him?- stole my TARDIS." He said carefully, unwilling to give too much away about what happened to Clara without her permission. "I need to get it back before he does something stupid and possibly genocidal with it."

Obviously the Shadow Architect had never met Fenric, because she was remarkably calm about the whole scenario.

"Okay. So, what do you want me to do about it?"

The Doctor rubbed his eyes tiredly. He had forgotten how much work the Architect could be. "Just keep a lookout for him, would you? It'd be a shame if a whole civilisation was wiped out because you were more concerned with starting wars than solving them." He snapped, momentarily forgetting himself under stress. Clara gulped down a mouthful of coffee too fast and burnt her throat, making 'shhh' noises and flapping a hand distractedly at the youthful attendant who offered to get her some oral burn medicine.

The Shadow Architect didn't answer for a good few minutes. The whole room held their breath, and Clara abandoned the monitor and her tea to join the Doctor sitting on his workstation. She pulled herself up next to him and placed a hand on his knee, rubbing back and forth reassuringly. The Judoon stood around tensely to attention.

"You're lucky we value your services, Doctor, or you would be a pile of ash smoking on the floor by now," The Shadow Architect said finally, cold. The control room let out a collective sigh of relief, and the Judoon guards sat down at a table and whipped out of a pack of cards, shuffling them then dealing them with well practised, three-fingered hands. Clara grinned over at them, loving the little quirks aliens often exhibited that she never anticipated, demonstrating just how little she knew about the Universe.

"We will carry out a scan of the known universe in search of this Fenric," The Shadow Architect continued, "until the scan is finished, you and your companion will be kept in one of the cells on board. For your own safety, of course."

The Doctor jumped up off the workstation, indignant. "You call locking Clara and I up with convicted criminals _safe_?" He barked. The Architect laughed, a high piercing sound that made the cold coffee in the cup to Clara's right quiver.

"Not for your safety. No- the safety of all the sane personnel on this ship. You cause destruction and war whenever you go, Doctor, and your friend has the same potential. She's already entranced most of the male workers in this room."

The men working around the monitor Clara had been asking about shifted guiltily and coughed lightly, flushing bright red. The Doctor suddenly grew tense, from jealousy or protectiveness Clara couldn't tell, and took her hand gently, drawing her closer to his side.

"I want you both out of sight, where you can cause no trouble. You'll be released once we have what you came for. _Guards!_"

The Judoon nearly scrambled up from their chairs and fell into rank around the Doctor and Clara. They were so close together that escape was near impossible, and their chances of survival if escape did, by some miracle, happen were even smaller.

"Take them to their cells. But have them processed, first- I'd very much like to know what they're not telling us."

The Judoon guards saluted, and began to march them towards the cell levels of the ship. Several of Clara's new friends watched on with horror, wondering what they might have done to deserve processing, but the rest of the control room turned a blind eye to the escort.

"We'll be fine. Absolutely fine," reassured the Doctor, nudging his shoulder into hers almost playfully. "At least we're being locked up together."

"I'd rather not be locked up at all." Clara bit back nervously.

"Me too. But hey," he rummaged in his pockets, suspicious clanking sounds coming from his coat until some solid, brightly coloured plastic packaging emerged, "_I brought Top Trumps._"

Clara pretended to be angry, but cracked when he waved the cards happily under her nose. She batted them away, laughing.

"Only you, Doctor, would have a pack of cards for if we get thrown in prison." She told him, whacking his arm lightly, "it's like you wanted us to get arrested."

He hummed, non-committal, to her. The easy smile dropped off her face as realisation dawned on her. "You _did_, didn't you? You _wanted _us to get arrested?"

He looked at her sheepishly. "_Arrested, _yes. _Processed_, not so much."

"Oh, _wonderful_. Well done, Doctor." She hissed. _  
><em>

"You're very welcome."

She whacked his arm again. He yelped. "I hope you have a plan," she told him sternly.

"Yep."

"That was a lie."

"No, it wasn't!"

Another light whack, this time to the Doctor's elbow.

"Fine, yes it was. But I'll have one soon," he promised.

"You'd better."

"I'm working on it."

"Good. Work faster then."

The Doctor grumbled under his breath. There was no winning. Not when he was up against Clara Oswald. And to be honest, he wouldn't have it any other way.


	4. Chapter 4- Imprisoned

The Judoon spared the Doctor no more than a few choice glances during the rest of the walk, much more interested in Clara than the Time Lord. He kept a protective hand on her back during the journey, bouncing the pack of Top Trumps around in the other while he regaled her with tales about how he had once used them to settle an inter-planetary debate. She laughed and chatted in all the right places, but her eyes were distant and clouded with worry.

The prison levels on the ship were stark and clinical, an imposing structure of thick metal walls, pillars and walkways encased by glass a metre deep. Cell doors were deadlock sealed and three metres thick, steam hissing from joints whenever they were opened and closed due to the extra force needed to move the masses of metal. There were no guards- each cell was booby-trapped so if the occupant ever managed to leave their cell without permission they would be instantly vapourised. Goosebumps formed up Clara's flesh as they were escorted past rows of cells, the insane laughter of an inmate somehow carrying through the walls and echoing down the walkway. She shivered, and hoped that wherever their cell was that it wasn't anywhere near that inmate's.

They ascended a steep flight of stairs- made of steel, like nearly everything else in this ship- up until the fourth level of near identical cells. The only difference between these cells and the ones on the floors below was the level of security- escaping inmates were given an electric shock instead of instant vapourisation. It wasn't much of a difference, but the Doctor was semi-confident that it was a feature that he could use to his advantage.

The escort came to a halt in front of a cell and the lead Judoon punched in a set of numbers into the keypad next to the door. Clara subtly edged around the officer in front of her to get a glimpse of the combination, memorising the numbers carefully.

"There's no point, female," grunted one of the younger Judoon, a hint of sympathy in his voice. "The locks are changed hourly."

Clara rocked on the balls of her feet, disappointed. "Oh. Thanks," she said dejectedly. The Judoon turned and hesitated, like he wanted to say more, and was cut off by a hard jab in the back with a blaster by his comrade directly behind him.

"There will be no talking with the prisoners." He commanded. Clara's Judoon snapped to attention.

"Yes, sir!"

Clara huffed a sigh of disappointment, shot an apologetic smile at the Judoon and shuffled back to the Doctor.

"Nice try," the Doctor told her, "but I could've warned you that that wouldn't work."

"Yeah, well, you could've told me that before." Clara returned.

"I wanted to see what would happen. And now I know." He replied cryptically, watching the young Judoon fidget and glance at Clara. A plan began to take shape in his head.

The cell opened with a hiss of steam and their escort formed a ring around them, adopting an intimidating battle stance. A pile of neatly folded black prison overalls at least six sizes too big were given to Clara and she struggled to see over them, the top of the pile reaching above her nose. The Doctor laughed but stopped quickly at the withering glare she sent his way.

"You have two hours until processing." One Judoon, the leader, rasped. "Enjoy." His mouth twisted into a gruesome mimic of a smile, and he shoved Clara roughly into their cell. The pile of clothes in her arms tumbled onto the floor and she spun around angrily, ready to give the Judoon what-for, but the Doctor clamped his hand hurriedly over her mouth before she could lay into them.

"Really not a good idea. Resisting makes them worse." He peered into her eyes until she nodded with understanding and he released her, stroking her cheek by way of apology. She grasped his fingers, letting him know that it was accepted.

"Your friend is wise. You should listen to him," said the leader with a grunt. Clara fought the urge to slap the smug look off the humanoid rhino's face, tucking both hands firmly into the pockets in her skirt.

"I'll keep that in mind," she bit back sweetly.

The Judoon laughed nastily, then punched in the combination again and the door slid shut. Almost immediately the silence pressed in around them. Clara bent down to retrieve the overalls from the floor but the Doctor beat her to it, dropping into a crouch and gathering them up before she even had the chance to stoop down. He shifted the pile so they were balanced on one hand and grabbed hers with the other, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Their room was quite large, large enough to fit a single bed, a desk, a bookcase, a small chest of drawers and a transparent storage box. Everything was made of the same depressing grey metal, from the bed frame down to the toothbrush holder in the bathroom next door- even their toilet was made of metal. The mattress on their bed sagged in the middle.

"This is...cosy." Said the Doctor. He looked torn between dumping their new clothes in the chest of drawers to relieve his cramping muscles or keeping a hold of Clara's hand. Apparently her hand won, and the Doctor stroked his fingers along her knuckles to keep her calm.

"We're locked up. In a prison." Clara commented, processing her surroundings slowly. She tried not to look at the desk chair that was bolted to the floor too much: it's shape and material reminded her too strongly of when she had been kidnapped by Fenric. Instead she grabbed the clothes from the Doctor and set about storing them neatly in the drawers, separating her overalls from his and placing them in drawers accordingly.

"We are, yes." The Doctor agreed. His hand left with nothing to do he flung himself onto the bed instead, wincing when the old springs dug into his back.

When the Doctor didn't elaborate Clara looked up from her overalls, setting a pair aside to change into as she watched him writhe into several positions on the bed in a mission to find a comfortable spot without too many springs.

"Are we going to escape?" She asked, throwing him his own pair to wear. His arm flicked out and caught it neatly, despite his concentration being on scanning the bed with his sonic to see if changing the molecules would make it more comfy.

"No." He said simply, leaping up off the bed.

Clara's mouth hung open in surprise. "Doctor, I'm not sure if you've noticed, but we've just been captured and locked up by a race of aggressive space rhinos."

"They're not rhinos-"

"-they're Judoon, I know." She stuck her hands on her hips. "Answer the question."

He sighed, scratching his head agitatedly as he tried to put his plan into words in the quickest way possible. "We're not escaping because we don't need to. They're afraid of us enough as it is, which works to our advantage."

"I don't see how them being so scared they lock us up _works to our_ _advantage._"

His hands gave a random flourish as he hopped from foot to foot, as if they were trying to put to words what he was failing to. "If they're scared of us, because they think we're dangerous, then imagine how terrified they are of Fenric if _we're_ scared of _him_."

"Oh. _Oh_. So they'll find him faster for us-"

"-then let us go after him without any back up hoping that we'll destroy each other!" He finished gleefully.

"_What?_"

The Doctor cringed back from the glare she was sending his way, stumbling back from her as she advanced. "I, uh...that is to say, I...they'll back us up. Probably." She stopped in front of him, poking a finger in his chest.

"Good. Because I-" She stuttered to a stop, swallowed, and started again. "I don't want him to hurt you. Like he did to me." She finished haltingly. She was shaking from head to toe, and not from anger.

The Doctor touched her shoulders tentatively and when she leaned forward for him he engulfed her in a hug, raining kisses down on her face. They gripped each other, remembering how close Fenric had come to killing one of them, and dreading the possibility that he may do it again.

"Oh, Clara." the Doctor rumbled into her hair. He kissed the soft spot under her ear, drawing a shaky sigh from her. He wanted to promise her that she'd be okay, that Fenric would never touch either of them again, but he'd also promised not to lie to her. And the Doctor hated breaking his promises.

Clara was reluctant to let him go after that so they changed into their overalls together in the bathroom, the Doctor feeling naked without his signature bow-tie wrapped around his neck. He wiggled his fingers in the gap, wishing that his new clothes had a collar instead of a round neck.

Clara dragged him back into the main room and sat on the bed, letting out a squeal of surprise when he dropped down behind her and grabbed her by the wrist and the waist, pulling her into his lap. She rested her head on his collarbone, and his head lolled on top of hers contentedly as he traced the pattern of the Gallifreyan tattoo that Fenric had left on her skin-

The tattoo. It was still there.

It could just be nothing, the Doctor reasoned with himself, just an unwelcome (but beautiful nevertheless) reminder of the past month or so. Fenric could have just left it there to spite them, to show how easy it had been to slip past their defences and tear them apart. But it could also mean something a lot more sinister. A lot more disturbing.

Fenric could still be in her mind.

The Doctor didn't have time, though, to prod around her brain and search for him, and to be honest he was terrified to find out if Fenric was buried within Clara's soul. They were due to be processed in less than half an hour, and if Fenric was indeed still in Clara the Shadow Proclamation would pick up on it and she would be moved to a high security cell on level One, without the Doctor. They would never see each other again.

The Doctor reached over for his jacket, which he had slung over the back of the chair after seeing the effect it had on Clara, and dug through the pockets until his fingers closed around a cardboard box. He pulled it out and opened it one-handedly, popping a round green pill into the palm of his hand and offering it to Clara. She took it between her thumb and forefinger, rolling it curiously.

"What's this?" She asked quietly, lacking her usual enthusiasm. Thoughts of Fenric had banished her optimism, leaving her downtrodden. What she lacked, however, the Doctor was more than happy to provide, grinning down at her and tapping his hand against her thigh, lost in thought.

"It stops the Shadow proclamation from accessing private memories during processing," the Doctor told her, lying by omission. "Perfectly safe. You can dry swallow." He added as she attempted to get off him to search for a glass of water.

She did, grimacing at the taste, then prodded him playfully in the ribs. "Where's yours?"

He tapped his temple, winking. "Oh, they can't get in. Too many blocks in here. Never try to out-psychic a psychic alien." He told her conspiratorially. "I get angry and all their machines explode. They never learn."

He had meant to make her laugh, but her features twisted down into a frown. "Will you be okay?" She asked him, fingers stroking his face sweetly. She knew he found it hard to lie to her when they were close, and he fought to keep the truth hidden even as she traced around his features and down his neck, fingers circling the bow-tie free hollow at his collarbone.

"I'll be fine," he reassured her, bopping her nose. She scrunched it up and he kissed the tip.

"Do you promise?" She asked him, looking at him from under her eyelashes. His hearts rate sped up considerably and he cursed the effect she had on him.

"I-" He began, honestly not knowing how he would finish, but was saved from answering by the arrival of their guards in their room. His arms clung to her tighter, knowing what was coming next.

The Judoon saluted in unison. "The Shadow Architect will see you now."


End file.
